Chapter Text
It was the early morning spring chill that woke him, the cool ocean air that lifted through the curtains and over skin. Viego opened his eyes, clearing the haze over them after a few blinks, bringing his wife’s back into focus, just the hint of the morning light catching in her long red hair that she had pulled over her shoulder. He watched her frame rise and fall once, twice, a third time. She hypnotized him. Her shoulder blades shifting with her breath, her curves still visible from under the sheet she had loosely tugged up around her chest, the way the light of dawn brightened her skin, all of it had him unable to look away.
The king smiled, wrapping his arms around his wife to pull her in close, pressing his lips against the back of her head with an affectionate hum.
What he got in return was more of a groan.
Viego grinned into her hair, leaning in to press another kiss to her cooled skin. “Come here my love,” he whispered.
Isolde shifted into the pillow with another groan.
“Come here,” he repeated, turning her towards him. She didn’t fight, throwing herself around and into his embrace, her face hidden against his chest. “There she is.”
She hummed, rubbing her face against his skin. “Cold…” she mumbled.
Viego rubbed her shoulders while he reached for the blanket down by their feet and tugged it up, covering them. He felt his wife’s body relax with the extra layer coupled with his warmth. “Better?”
“Mmhmm,” she said, snuggling up against him and then all at once pulling him on top of her. “Better.”
The King chuckled, wrapping her back up in his arms, sighing comfortably and leaving a gentle press of his lips against her neck.
“Is it morning?” she asked, yawning, her eyes still closed and hands up in his hair.
“Aye, it is. But we have a while longer still before anyone might disturb us.”
“A while longer I might have his Majesty to myself then?”
He smiled, moving to kiss her lips. “I am always here for you, first and foremost, my Queen.”
Isolde giggled as he kissed her, hugging him tight and kissing him back when his lips finally met her own. She, however, pushed him back just slightly when he tried to keep going, tapping his nose. “No,” she said.
“And why not?” He frowned, going to kiss her neck and shoulders, convince her further with a firm squeeze of her waist. She was so soft and the single sigh he got out of her was all he needed until she pushed him away again.
“ Because Viego, how many times have we gotten walked in on when we try and make love in the morning?”
The look on his face as he made some sort of attempt to count such an occurrence was enough to have his wife looping her arms around his neck and pressing him close into her chest.
“Hold me. Give me all your love tonight, but for now hold me.”
Viego didn’t complain past a small sigh, a concession, for now at least. He could be more than content with this, his face pressed gently between her breasts and her hands combing through his hair at a steady pace. It would have lulled him back to sleep if there hadn’t been a knock on the door.
Isolde called for them to enter and he heard a few servants file in and ask if they should prepare a bath for them to which she agreed. Viego remained quiet, simply listening to her. She’d come such a long way already. A year ago she dared not trouble anyone for anything. She fell over her words, unsure of what she could or couldn’t say. Now she handled it with the grace of a noble lady, minus the hints of her Northern Island’s accent slipping through. It made him smile. Her voice was so gentle and soothing, it only became more of what was putting him to sleep before she tapped his shoulder.
“Darling, let’s take our bath hmm? Before the water gets cold?”
Viego lifted his head up and nodded, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss before he got off her and swung his feet over the edge of the bed, stretching only to fall back against the sheets “Give me just a moment,” he yawned, rubbing his eyes.
His wife trailed her hand along his shoulders, patting them. “I’ll be waiting for you then,” she said. He watched her go with a smile on his face. Beautiful...as she always was.
Isolde stood in front of the full length mirror, her hand running slowly over her stomach How long before he might notice, she wondered. She couldn’t feel anything and as she turned to the side, there was no change to likely anyone's eyes but her own. But just ever so slightly she could see it, a raise in her skin.
She looked over her shoulder a moment before returning to the mirror. She would tell him soon, as soon as she was certain. She’d called for the royal doctor. He didn’t know about that either. She knew the moment she breathed a word of feeling ill he would have every physician from here to Shurima on their way to tend to her. So for now, it would remain their little secret.
“Don’t worry, he’ll forgive us for this one,” she whispered with another drag along her stomach. When her gaze moved back to meet her own eyes she saw him watching her with a smile on his face. Her breath caught.
“Why, yes, you are just that lovely, my Queen.” He said, coming up behind her, arms wrapped around her torso, and pressing a kiss to the back of her head.
Isolde giggled, relief washing back over her, much like the water in the tub as he picked her up and got them both down inside the basen. He lowered her down until just her face was above the water and for a moment she let that too dip under. She opened her eyes as she lingered a moment, watching the unsteady water fractured image of her husband. Even like this she could tell he had that gentle smile on his face. She wondered what sort of expression he’d have when he got the news.
She came back to the surface, taking a breath and leaning back against his chest. She could hear him reach for the glass bottle with soap in it, the cork coming out and then she felt his hands in her hair, working it in. There were times she felt they’d known each other their whole lives, never a moment apart. And there were moments like these where it was easy to remember not so many months earlier when he knew nothing of something like washing hair . He’d watched her do it to herself, to him. Her insistence that she didn’t need anyone to help her baffling to him at the start. But now...now it was another moment they could spend just the two of them.
Isolde tilted her head back as he poured water down her back, washing out the suds. When he stopped she knew to turn and push him in front of her to do the same, sitting up on the edge of the stone bath and getting him soaped up, humming the same tune she often did, the sound of the music box she kept on her bedside table.
“That war council is today.”
“Yes, it is,” she said. “Before noon.”
Even without being able to see him she knew the face he was making. “I see no point in revisiting all of it.”
“Well, I’d say those old fools didn’t get the message the first time. We had best make it crystal clear for them,” she said. “Camavor has been a country of conquest for eight centuries.”
“My father and brother would never lead toward the contrary,” he sighed.
“But Viego is king now. Not his brother or father. Don’t question your decision because of your family’s history.”
He tilted his head up, staring up at her with those bright blue eyes of his. “They claim I’m too hung up on being married to a forgein born girl.”
Isolde frowned. She knew that. She also knew it was the same court that had made it quite clear to her that she must produce a suitable heir to the throne…“And what do you think?” she asked.
“I think they’re fools, thinking only of upholding a name rather than the country itself. My love for you has done nothing to cloud my judgment,” the empty look on his face turned up into a smile. “In fact it has never been better. With you ruling at my side I think clearer than ever.”
“I’m glad Vieg,” she said, brushing the last few strands of his wavy hair out of his face. “You’ll do fine. And this evening, if we’re not too busy, perhaps we could go down by the water.”
He grinned, that boyish sparkle coming into his eyes. It really was just that easy with him. She barely had to try at times. Slowly, bit by bit, he was tending to more of his duties so long as she stood there beside him. She never minded. If it meant that awful hollow look in his eyes left for good then she would do anything.
“I look forward to it, my Queen,” he said.
“As do I.”
The morning continued to pass peacefully. They were dressed and began their walk down the corridors of the castle and sat in the dining room where Kalista was already waiting.
“Good morrow, Kalista,” she said, taking her seat.
The General looked up with a small smile on her face. “Good morrow, my lady. Uncle,” she gave him a nod. That he returned with a roll of his eyes.
“Good morrow to you too, Kali,” he said.
“Oh a good morning indeed. I heard you’re coming to the war council,” she said with a sort of triumphant smile that only ever started fights.
“Unfortunately,” he said, which was quickly corrected to “Of course I am.” with a gentle nudge at his leg from Isolde under the table.
“Good, then maybe we can finally get these old men to give it up already. It’s a good decision, Viego. The world is changing, best we change with it.” Kalista sat back in her chair as breakfast was placed in front of them and they took to eating their meal.
“Oh, Kalista, how did last night go?” she asked.
The general choked on her drink, coughing and slamming her fist against her chest. “F-fine!” she said, clearing her throat. “Excuse me, it was…a nice day. Thank you, my lady.”
“Kali, don’t you know dying at the breakfast table is bad manners?”
“Says my king who has his elbows on the table,” she said.
“Says my general talking with food in her mouth!”
Isolde listened to them bicker while eating her breakfast. This was another change since she’d gotten here. His best friend, like a sister , is how he’d described her. But they were distant, at odds with the word “duty” being the wedge between them. Now, however, they seemed…better. It made her smile into her cup of tea.
“Who invited you here anyways?” Viego demanded. “Ledros must be wondering where you wandered off to.”
Despite the distinct red on her cheeks Kalista didn’t back down, leaning in. “Apologies, your Majesty, but I have direct orders to join you for breakfast every morning.”
“From who?”
“Why, the Queen, of course,” she answered.
Viego lowered his head to the table. “My love, you have betrayed me.”
The two women laughed. His drama was nothing if not amusing. Isolde reached for his hand.“Vieg, darling,” she said, earning his attention once again. He lifted his head and took her hand in his. “Today after the war council I have an appointment that we need to attend,” she said. “It’s nothing to worry over but recently I’ve been—”
As she spoke, the gaze he held her in lifted to the doorway behind her once, and then again. All the color suddenly drained from his face, a look of horror twisting into his features as he shouted “Isolde!”
She hit the floor and she wasn’t sure what she felt more, the impact of Viego pushing her or the floor and her head bouncing off the tile. Chaos erupted in the room, voices and a deafening surge in noise like she was under water. Her vision too was fractured and distorted until she saw her husband on the floor clutching his arm.
“Viego!” She cried, scrambling to her knees and reaching for him, turning him over. Blood seeped through a gash in his upper left arm, spilling over his hand. “Darling, darling look at me!” she said, words falling from her lips in a panic.
Behind her the voice of Kalista was shouting something and servants crowded around them. Isolde however couldn’t understand a thing, and every word she spoke now somewhere between her own language and incoherent sobs. She pulled him into her arms. “Darling, look at me!” she pleaded, brushing his hair out of his face.
His eyes opened and that blood soaked hand of his reached for hers. “Are you hurt?” he asked, only making the tears spill over faster. “Isolde…”
“I’m fine, oh gods,” she whispered, cradling his head against her chest. “So are you, so are you, my love.”
“My lady,” a few of the servants kneeled down, going to pull her away. More had joined the room now, some taking him, others her. Isolde kept hold of his hand until she couldn’t any longer and Viego was rushed from the room. As she too was swept away from the scene she caught a glimpse of the man, pinned under Kalista’s knees, a knife at his throat, and the dagger on the ground that he had surely thrown. On his face was a smile that was more than enough to send chills up her spine.
Noise faded away again, the only thing she was capable of hearing being her own heart beat. And even as the servants lowered her into a chair and tried to calm her, her handmaiden, Felisa, taking her hand, she could only stare, her whole body shaking.
“Your Highness, his majesty is with the doctors right now, he will be just fine,” she assured her.
Isolde blinked, those being the first words that seemed make through the shock. “That man,”
Her handmaiden shook her head. “He will be dealt with, your highness. Please we must check you over to ensure you’re not injured.”
“Can I see Viego then?” she asked.
An uneasy smile spread across her face and she nodded. “Yes Ma’am we’ll take you to him. Now please,” she gestured to the changing screen. “We must be sure.”
“Yes...yes, alright…” Isolde nodded and walked with them, changing out of her clothes and letting them check for any sign that the blade had grazed her skin. Aside from a bump on her head and a sore shoulder, they found nothing. She was dressed again in no time, sitting with her handmaiden on their bed, Gwen, her doll, in her hands. She tugged anxiously at the doll’s curls and ruffles, fixing and straightening them again and again as they waited for news, and word that she may see him.
It was just a scratch, she told herself. Even a small cut can bleed terribly. She knew that well, having her own fair share of scissor cuts and scrapes from helping her parents on the farm. Just a cut, a scratch. Nothing more.
Finally after what felt like an eternity another servant entered the room with the guards. “His Majesty is asking for you, your Highness.” Isolde got to her feet, taking a step before leaving Gwen on the sheets and then following, walking down the corridor to another room. Guards lined the walls, parting their spears so that she may enter.
Viego sat on a bench, his arm wrapped tightly in bandages. Kalista stood beside him. For a moment they spoke in a harsh whisper until he caught sight of Isolde. “My love…” he said.
“Darling!” She rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck and holding tight. It was just a scratch.
“Isolde…” he said, returning her embrace.
“How is your arm? Does it hurt?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, instead squeezing her tighter and then saying. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine love,” she said. “We’re both fine.”
A hand took a firm grip on her shoulder. Kalista leaned in and whispered. “A moment, your Highness,”
Isolde turned, glancing between her and her husband who held her in a death grip. “Kalista…? What is it?”
The General looked around and waved off the doctors, ushering them and the guards further back in the room, out of earshot. “It was poisoned,” she said.
Isolde felt her heart drop into her feet. “Poi--poisoned?” She looked down at her husband who had his face buried against her shoulder. “Vieg, look at me,” she said.
Slowly, he lifted his head. Dark lines had already creased themselves under his eyes. An hour had barely passed and somehow he looked sick beyond words. As soon as she got a look at him he pushed back, resting again on her shoulder.
“What can we do? An antidote? A cure?” she said. “Surely we must have something?”
The look on Kalista’s face grew dimmer, her hand coming in front of her eyes as she shook her head. “We haven’t any idea what was used.”
“The man that did this, we have him, yes? Make him talk, the apothecary in town, the--the healer in the temple up the hill—there must be someone who knows of these things.”
“They are all on their way. But the assassin...he had poison between his own teeth. He was dead before we could even get him down the stairs.”
Isolde felt a small flood of stomach acid in the back of her throat that she swallowed back down, turning her attention back to Viego and lifting his head up once more. “Let’s get you into bed my love,” she said, looking back over her shoulder and motioning for the guards to come.
Viego was lifted once again, brought back to their room where Isolde took it upon herself to make him comfortable, pillows, blankets, whatever she thought might help . In the closet, on the shelf where Gwen usually sat was a doll, a dragon of sorts. It was worn and well loved except for a new looking blue ribbon around its neck and some new stitching along the foot. Isolde took it, brought it back into the room, and sat on the bed, adjusting the covers over him. Viego watched her, she could feel his eyes on her but every time she dared to meet them it was that horrible emptiness staring back. “I got him out of the closet for you,” she said, placing the toy beside his head. “To keep you company.”
He smiled for a moment, but his hand only reached for hers, squeezing it. He hadn’t said another word. She could see a tightness in his jaw like he wanted to but not even so much as a whisper had left him. Isolde ran her hand along his cheek and he closed his eyes, letting out a deep exhale.
“My lady,” Kalista called, standing from her chair in the corner. “A word?”
She nodded and went to go, only to have Viego tug her arm back, squeezing tighter. “Shhh, darling,” she said with another gentle sweep along his face. “I’ll just be a minute. I won’t leave you a moment more.”
His eyes searched hers for a moment before his own hand went to her face, caressing it before he finally let go. Isolde got up and went with Kalista onto the balcony, past the curtains and up against the stone railing.
“There’s more.”
“More than just poison?”
Kalista shook her head. “This wasn’t an attempt from foregin soil. That man was from Camavor. This comes from inside.”
The stomach acid came back up Isolde’s throat and this time she very nearly didn’t hold it back. “The court?”
She nodded. “We have a traitor in our midst.”
Isolde sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm her shaking body. After a few more breaths she was steady. “We find them, we find a cure,” she said. “Kalista, I’m begging you, whatever we must do to save him I will do it. But I…” she trailed off, her hand going absentmindedly to her midsection. Tears spilled over the edges of her eyes again and she had no power to stop them. “I can’t lose him. This life is nothing to me if not with him, you understand?”
The General nodded. “I swear to you, my lady, I will do everything in my power to save him.”
She tried to smile, unable to hold it but enough she was sure that Kalista saw. Isolde brushed the water from under her eyes. “I’m going to stay with him. As painful as it is to see that hollow look in his eyes I cannot leave him.”
Kalista gave her another nod and followed her back into their bedroom. “I’ll see the apothecary and cleric here when they arrive.” She left one last squeeze of Isolde’s shoulder before disappearing out the door.
Isolde sat back down on the bed with Viego. His eyes were closed now. She reached for the bowl of water left on her beside and a cloth, dipping it in and wringing it out before laying it over his forehead.
“My love…” he said
“Yes,” she said, leaning over. “What do you need, darling?”
He shook his head, opening his eyes to look at her. He didn’t say another word, only squeezed her hand. He couldn’t say it. She knew that. Like so much about being king that he never said. She could see all that fear and pain in that emptiness behind his eyes. Truth be told she couldn’t bring herself to say it either. It was something she’d tried so hard to suffocate, but now it was the only thing that breathed in this room, growing and taking up every last nook and crack where it used to have to hide to exist.
Another hour passed before there was a knock on the door. Isolde had taken to sitting at his bedside, holding his hand while he sweated through a growing fever.
“Come in,” she called, not taking her eyes off him. But out of the corner of her periphery she saw Kalista and a man she could only assume to be one of the people they’d sent for.
“Your Highness,” Kalista said, bowing her head. The older man behind offered a deeper one in kind. “I’ve brought the apothecary.”
“How well versed are you in curatives, sir?” she asked, suddenly aware of how stained with tears her face felt.
“Plenty your Highness! We are the oldest apothecary in Alovedra, operating for seven generations,” he said with far too much enthusiasm for Isolde’s taste.
Her gaze slid to the side, eyeing the man. “My husband has been poisoned.”
“Yes, my lady. Worry not!” The man came forward. “We are more than equipped to handle such--unfortunate circumstances.”
Isolde watched him lay out several glass bottles, varying powders, liquids, and ingredients within them. “Have you been given the knife? The blade that poisoned him?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Have you seen this poison before?” She continued to watch him as he took a mortar and pestle and started combining the items. Isolde bit the inside of her lip at the sight of a few of them.
“No, your Highness, but I’m certain this mixture will be just the thing his Majesty needs,” he assured her.
“What is that red flower you’re using?” she asked, running her thumb along Viego’s hand.
“Oh this? An important element, my lady, it will help clean the corrupted blood in the King’s veins,” he explained.
Isolde’s eyes slid to a vial of pink liquid. “And this?”
“Ah, it is the nectar of the Rosado Flower. It will numb the pain he’s in while the rest of the medicine does it’s work.”
The Queen grit her teeth, a fresh tear spilling over and down her cheek. “And how , pray tell, will sugar water and more poison cure my husband?” she demanded.
“What?” Kalista hissed, grabbing the man by his collar.
“M-my lady, no, you are mistaken! This--this is a cure my family has used for generations!”
Isolde let go of Viego’s hand, getting to her feet as she glared down at the man. “The Rosado flower is used to make tea sweet where I come from and this,” she hissed, grabbing the twig with it’s brightly colored petals. “We have this too in Noiah. This, sir , is a flower field hands chew on to stay up for days at a time while they work. It’s addictive and it’s poisonous if you take too much! And you are little more than a snake, preying on the pain of the desperate. Get him out!” she ordered.
Kalista and two other guards pulled the man from the room. Servants came and took away his “curatives” and Isolde took her seat again at Viego’s side, taking his hand as she tried to compose herself. “I’m sorry darling. I wish for you not to see me like this. We’ll get you real help.”
He smiled at her, but kept his eyes closed. “Your accent gets thicker when you yell.”
Isolde couldn’t help but crack a smile of her own. “Still charmed by my country girl accent hmm?” she said, speaking for a moment in her own language.
“Ah, my heart,” he said.
She laughed, but even still, the tightness in her throat returned. He looked so sick. Even cracking a joke he looked pale, exhausted. “Viego…I love you.”
“I love you, my Queen,” he said, his body tensing immediately after as he fought through a wave of pain.
“Shhh, It’s alright, rest, sleep. I’ll wake you when the cleric comes,” she said, leaning over to leave a kiss on his forehead. Viego exhaled another deep breath, turning onto his side.
Isolde readjusted the covers and reached for her sewing on the bedside table. It was a square for a quilt, the one she’d been working on since she was a girl. As it had been for so long this square was a symbol of the two of them, a sunset they’d watched one night. It kept her busy, focusing on one line of thread to the next and not the uncertainty ahead of them.
Days began to pass. Kalista stayed close. Healer after miracle man after alchemist was brought in with nothing to show for it. Most were con men, hacks, snake oil salesmen looking to profit off the desperation of the crown. And those who offered true help did little but ease Viego’s pain. The assassination was home grown but whatever coated that knife came far from the shores of Camavor and all its territories, leaving them with nothing that might cure it.
The General sent her men as far as she thought they might reach in search of a doctor, a cure, even just the rumor that one might exist. Meanwhile at home the noose tightened around two members of the court and a score of others from a noble house. It was plenty to keep her busy, her thoughts off the rope around their own throats, especially that of her Uncle.
He was getting worse. The poison left him delirious, running fevers, chills, and coughing up blood. Most recently he’d started having violent convulsions, like he was possessed. Nothing helped. All Isolde could do was hold him until it stopped and beg him to come back. And all she could do was keep sending anyone, and everyone they could find in hopes that just one person could help.
Kalista leaned her head against the double doors leading into Viego and Isolde’s room. It was quiet. She’d already heard from the Queen’s handmaiden that today was yet another dead end. Every day that continued to be the report it got harder to walk in. As she opened the doors she found Isolde sitting in her spot beside Viego, but this time with her head down, seemingly passed out over the edge. Kalista lightened her steps along the tile floors to the end of their bed. She hadn’t left his side in days. Kalista knew from reports from servants and staff that she had barely eaten or slept, choosing to stay up all hours and tend to him herself. She didn’t blame her. Paranoia was palpable in the halls. Who could be trusted was a dice roll and not one that neither she nor Isolde wished to play.
“Kalista…”
Viego’s voice startled her. She hadn’t heard him say her name in a week. But sure enough his eyes were open and he was looking at her. Kalista took another step towards the end of the bed.
“Kali,” he said, his voice strained. “Can you lift Isolde up into bed? I can barely move. Please. And try not to wake her...”
The General nodded, coming up beside her and slowly lifted the Queen into her arms and carried her to the other side of the bed where she laid her down beside Viego.
“She hasn’t left.”
Her uncle reached out, his hand shaking as he stroked her cheek. “She is in so much pain…”
Kalista frowned. “She’s strong. You should be more worried with yourself, old man,” she said, taking a seat on Isolde’s chair. Viego only kept his attention on his wife, caressing her face, pushing back stray strands of hair.
“You think I’m not,Kali? I’m so scared it takes every ounce of strength I have to not scream every conscious moment. I’m going to die and leave Isolde here, alone. I’ve searched my whole life for something to care about, to live for, beside this ridiculous image Father and my brother left behind. Finally I found something I love and I’m going to die.”
Kalista bit the inside of her lip, pressure building up behind her eyes. “We’re still looking, we’re not giving up.”
“I know,” he said. “But if I don’t make it, please, take care of her, protect her. Run.”
“Viego--”
“It’s an order,” he said, trying to muster some strength behind his words. “We both know what’s going to happen to her, to you, to everyone loyal to my regime if I don’t make it. Please don’t let anyone hurt her. She’s already in so much pain.”
One tear spilled over that she was quick to wipe away by the time he managed to turn his head to look at her
“Swear to me.”
“I will protect her. But Viego, there is something…” she trailed off, her eyes going to Isolde, still fast asleep. She was almost certain. That day, and several times since she’d caught her, the Queen’s hand absently over her stomach. A day or so ago she’d found her in the wash room, sick, coughing up what little was in her body.
Stress, overwhelming anxiety, the fear of losing him. She explained it away and said not a word more, but even if no one else had seen it, she had. “Her Highness, she…”
Worry took over the exhaustion etched into his face. “What’s happened?”
Kalista stared at her. She hadn’t told him. She hadn’t told a soul. Unwilling to risk the life of their child, unwilling to take care away from him. The General shook her head. “She is fine, Viego, she is strong. And she loves you, more than anything. Don’t worry about her. Just hold on a little longer until we find something.”
Her uncle’s eyes searched hers for a moment before turning back to his wife. “Darling…”
Isolde’s eyes flickered open just a bit to see him reach for her. “Vieg,” she whispered, moving in close, and latching on to him. “You’re awake.”
“Shhh,” he hushed her. “Back to sleep,”
Isolde didn’t fight, dozing off in a matter of moments.
Kalista watched them a moment longer before getting up, going to the door. She couldn’t watch. And in truth, as she closed the doors quietly behind her, they deserved just a moment to each other, to be alone when it was growing more uncertain how many more of those moments they had left.
Another three days passed. Isolde watched in silent agony as her husband continued to waste away in front of her eyes. He stopped waking up between all of his convulsions. She could barely get him to drink. It was all she could do just to change the blankets, and the cloth on his forehead. Every person that they sent was equally useless. Neither medicine, nor magic, not even her pleas to the gods made a difference. She was losing him.
Isolde gripped the fabric of her dress over her stomach. Their baby, they would be born having never met their father, never to meet him. All she would ever have would be stories, fairytales of him and how wonderful he was. The thought was enough to make her scream. And she did, silently. Tears poured down her face as not so much as sound left her. Every muscle in her body screamed with her, twisting and contorting in the grief of knowing there was nothing she’d been able to do for him so far. Nothing . Her Viego who had cared for her with such devotion since the day they met, was there truly nothing she could do?
After a few moments, alone, in her washroom, the Queen leaned over, splashed some water on her face. Not yet, she breathed into her reflection. There was hope yet. An apothecary from Ionia. Chance had him not so far and they’d received word that he would come, see the king. Isolde knew little of the First Lands, other than their stories of magic and wonder beyond all she could imagine. Perhaps this was just the thing. Perhaps he knew and could help him, save him, save them both.
Isolde took a deep breath and stood up straight, smoothing out her dress and then returning to his side, taking her seat on the stool with her craft work. This panel of her quilt. It no longer resembled that which she originally intended. Now it was a prayer for the future. Her and Viego’s silhouettes against the sunset, but with a third figure between them. She could not decide if she would risk predicting a boy or girl so their baby was just a shadow, a solid mass of question marks like everything else. But she continued to pour in detail, far beyond what any other square in her quilt possessed. With every thread she prayed, she bought more time, more of a chance to see it a reality.
Beside her, Viego woke in a start, jolting from a nightmare, or perhaps just the pain. Isolde instantly stood up and took his hand. “Easy, my love,” she said, taking his face, waiting for him to see her.
“Isolde…” he said. “I--I was...I…” he trailed off. “I can’t remember.”
She hushed him softly, settling back in her seat and taking his hand. “It’s alright darling, you don’t need to remember. I’m right here.”
That seemed to sooth him. Slowly he caught his breath and settled back against the pillows. “Yes, yes, you’re right,” he said. “But I--I have to see Kali? That meeting?”
“Shhh, Kalista is coming here, remember? She’ll be here in just a few hours,” she said. His memory was getting worse, his mind seeming to be going completely. Sometimes he talked of the day he was stabbed, other times he asked if she would marry him. Her only joy in any of it was the look of relief on his face when she said “Yes, and a million times over again.” or anything else to ease his worries.
“My love,” he said, watching as she took up her needle and thread again. “What are you sewing?”
Isolde smiled, scooching her stool over just a touch closer. “You remember my quilt darling?”
He nodded.
“This is for the month,” she said, turning to show it to him. “Last week,” she said, as if it did not feel a lifetime away, we went out onto the cliffs and watched the sunset. We had a picnic and brought your guitar. It was very romantic.”
He smiled. “Can I take you there again?” he asked. “Tonight--tonight I’ll cancel my meeting with Kali. Oh, and the music box.”
Isolde paused. “Do you want me to play it for you?” she asked.
“No, no,” he said. “I’ll play it. I wrote it. For you. For our wedding,” he said.
“You...did?” she said. He’d never said a word of this before. But she remembered suddenly. Long before they were married, when they were swept up in meeting after dark, under only starlight, that first time he played for her, it had been that song...hadn’t it? A simple little tune that had her laughing.
“They asked, what song should we use? I gave them the notes. Because you, you said it was beautiful. And I said--”
“Like you,” she finished the sentence, which had him smiling even brighter.
“So beautiful,” he said. “I’ll play for you again tonight.”
She couldn't help it, Isolde smiled too. “Very well, my love. We’ll go out by the water, and you can play for me. I look forward to it.”
Viego relaxed then, letting his head fall back against the pillows once more. “As do I…”
Isolde pulled her quilt back to her lap again. “Vieg, darling...I need to tell you something,” she said, tracing the shadow that sat between them, feeling the threads under her finger tips. “I didn’t want to make things harder on you. I know you’re in pain, and you’re scared, but I should have told you. I--I’m pregnant. I’m sorry. I was going to tell you that day, but everything...see here, on the quilt, I sewed them and--” Isolde lifted the square back up to him, pointing to the shadow of their child.
But he was still. His eyes had fallen closed again and he was still.
He often fell back asleep like this, suddenly, from one word to the next. But this was different. Always, she could see his chest rise and fall under the covers. He was still.
The sewing circle fell out of Isolde’s hands, clattering on the floor. “Viego…?” She took his face again, brushing back hair, touching his neck, his shoulders. “Darling? Darling! No, Viego, please, come back, come back to me! No, no, no, no! Wake up, please Viego! Viego! Gods, please, don’t take him! Viego!” She cradled him in her arms, pressing his limp body against her own. “Don’t take him!” she begged, tugging and pulling at his clothes, his hair, anything she could hold.
But he was gone, taken. And taken with it was everything that suffocated her, everything that held sound back when she needed to scream. Now as her voice rang through this room and down the halls, sending guards and servants running to her side, she was anything but silent, crying, and begging for anything to bring him back.